


Here Comes Trouble

by PunLadenMiscreant



Category: Devil May Cry, Fallout: New Vegas, Resident Evil - All Media Types, Silent Hill (2006), Silent Hill: Revelation 3D (2012)
Genre: Aspects of Fallout 4, Because he's a handsome prick, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism Puns, Cannon Fodder OCS, Canon-Typical Violence, Character based loosely off self and as such is a lil'shit, Consider yourself warned quality wise, Dante is a smartass, Did I say ninja feels yet? That's important to remember because I ain't spoiling shit, Expect 4am updates because that's when I decided to do this to myself, F/F, F/M, First work - Freeform, Go find them, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I don't own shit besides Cannon Fodder and Jamie, I'm a sadist so don't get attached to anyone, Is this too much?, Looks at Supernatural fandom, Ninja feels, Poetic in a sleep deprived sorta way, Skyrim will be mentioned occasionally, Slightly OOC Vergil, Sporadic Updates, There are better people to write this kinda stuff, Things May Change Around, This fandom is dying and we're quite literally in hell every three games, Too many references to bother tagging, VERY slow burn romance because I know about jack and maybe shit in the art of wooing, Vergil is done with everyone, Why?, Will try to make regular if any interest is shown but no promises, Winchester approach to handling emotions and attraction, Winding loops of nonsense, You own yourself I'd assume and hope, and reality is a bitch, especially himself, no one asked for this, probably, product of boredom, spooky shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-03-14 05:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunLadenMiscreant/pseuds/PunLadenMiscreant
Summary: Of all the things to happen to a video game and sugar addicted college student, reality hopping through different universes tied to my favorite games wasn't what I thought I'd be doing in this or any other life time. But, shit happens and life goes on.For most. My name is Jamie Hale. I'm a twenty-three year old woman who should probably take up less dangerous hobbies and stop staring at Vergil before he notices and ganks me for daring to lay my filthy mortal eyes upon him. I'm also a smartass.If that doesn't get me stabbed before this is over then there's a glitch in the damn universe and someone needs to reboot it.But I digress. I'm not supposed to be able to do this. The reality hopping thing. It's breaking things you wouldn't think could be broken and causing things to collide that were never under any circumstances supposed to meet. An example, you shriek from your chair?Vergil and I are wading through Dead Money and he's completely human.This should be interesting.





	1. Why we can't have nice things.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm shit at sticking with writing projects, but damn I can't get this idea out of my head. A warning, this shit will be graphic. I'm not sure what explicit entails but if I can force myself to get this along until I've almost seen it through then there will be a light smut. Maybe. I don't want to shoehorn it in and I want to see if anyone is even interested in this before I commit to writing and editing until my inner perfectionist is placated. But I am a violent motherfucker and Jamie will be strung loosely between myself and my New Vegas whirlwind of death I called Trouble. Trouble burned Vegas to the ground, killed House with a nine iron because Bioshock yes please, is a cannibal, encouraged Graham to cap Salt-Upon-Wounds, killed Mobius and the Think Tank, and is just generally; trouble. Jamie will not be an edgelord, but Trouble will have her appearance for story telling purposes. This will be my first ever story on this site and kinda ever if you don't count the one I lost during the brief excursion to Wattpad when my account went fucky. My apologies for anything misspelled I've been awake for two days straight now because sleep is for the weak and to this day I'm still trying to force myself to slog through the Skyrim DLC without getting side tracked. It isn't working. I get attacked, I attack back, I find loot, I run off to sell loot, and it kinda devolves from there. Regardless, if any of this does sound interesting to you then thanks and bare with me. If I don't feel like writing my ADD kicks in and I'll stare at my computer screen until it goes into sleep mode. Then a goose will wander by and you don't ignore a goose. You just don't. Not if you value your eyes in their sockets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much dicking around to set the stage and allow the story to really start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this ill advised party started before my caffeine energy abandons me.

Hello. I don't believe we've really met yet but the name's Jamie. Jamie Hale. I'm the oldest of three children and was orphaned at the ripe old age of sixteen. Though for an orphan that is a bit on the far end of the range. How old was Annie when she was orphaned? Nevermind, right now or really in this entire situation I suppose it really doesn't matter. You're not here for my life story, but you'll get it in pieces along the way. You're here to get the story on what led to my being in the Sierra Madre resort from the Dead Money DLC. Fallout New Vegas. With an apparently human Vergil reluctantly wielding a cleaned cosmic knife spear. As for getting _here_ specifically I couldn't give you a satisfying answer or something you could recreate. There was a light while I was sitting alone in my apartment so bright it felt like my retinas were melting and I shielded my eyes because my vision is already bad enough that I need heavily focused prescription lenses to tell the difference between a coat rack and a coral snake. Would you want to be more blind? Nah? Me neither. When I moved my hands I was in the courtyard beside Vera's hologram. Fallout 4, not New Vegas style Pip Boy on my left wrist where my watch had been previously. I looked down at myself and found not the Dead Money jumpsuit on my sorry hide but that one armor set from Honest Hearts. What was it called? It's the one I always ran on my favorite file, Trouble the Cannibal Merc-

I stopped then. Both recalling the name of the armor and knowing instantly that several things were very wrong without looking around. An area not accessible after completing the DLC and not having your inventory taken? Shocking! That and the fact that it seemed that _I_ had taken Trouble's place. My glasses were gone but when I took off the helmet I found I didn't need them. I could see in glorious detail all of the dilapidated rubble all around me. Like VR. But actually real and not overpriced superposition goggles. My hair was how I had changed the characters' to during Old World Blues and I ran my only slightly more roughened hand over the shaved right side and then pulled my fingers through the shoulder length slightly trimmed hair on the opposite side. Trouble had been modeled after me as much as I was able with the shitty Bethesda character customization and after so long I just gave up on it and slapped a full head helmet on her and called it a day. Desert Ranger armor. An unsettled feeling scittered up my spine and I reflexively jammed the helmet back onto my head like it was muscle memory and pulled something off my back. The Holorifle. A worn strap kept it on my shoulder and able to be flung around for maximum desperado-ness. I didn't see anything lurking in the dark of the Villa though and only barely caught the glow of one of the vending machines. I lowered the gun and realized that while it wasn't stampeding out of my chest, my heart was pounding erratically and the very tips of my hands and feet felt numb. A sensation like I'd been dunked into the ice water the Titanic sunk into lingered heavy on every part of me. Feeling was coming back but I felt out of it in a way. Like I was watching a third person camera through first person format. The sky over the Villa rumbled and I took a step, my boot bumping into a duffle bag that felt like it was chock full of one of three things. Cinderblocks. Steel cross beams. Or supplies. Cookie for those who guess correctly. Apparently I wasn't able to tuck the near four hundred pounds of ordinance Trouble toted around into the duster like I'd assume she does and inside the bag was the mountain of completely overkill everything I drug around the Mojave with me. Ammo, Stims, an assortment of chems, a fuck dozen guns, explosives, and literal cantaloupe sized nukes. I'd forgotten about finally breaking down and buying a Fat Man the last time I played.

After rooting through the bag to my hearts content and finally getting to touch all of the cool shit I'd collected during my burn campaign I started towards the medical district with plans to make a full round through the place to see if I'd left any stone, rock, loose floor board, vent shaft, small elephant, or suitcase unpilfered. That was when things started to pick up. I ran into two Ghost People and kept my distance while learning how to use my favorite weapon with my own two hands. It had begun to rain what I could only guess was some kind of acidic liquid caused by The Cloud and kept under awnings when possible. It sizzled when it came into contact with any surface that would slightly accept it and pooled a dark reddish brown in the dips of the cement cobblestone path. The Ghosts looked even more gaunt than they had on screen and I had a nagging suspicion then that it wasn't just due to the change of viewpoint. Elijah's ultimately fatal fixation with the Sierra Madre kept them fed for what was either just at or almost a full five years. Without fresh 'volunteers' to run the gauntlet and try to open the casino they were most likely starving. This meant two things to me. Number one, there would be less given that I had cleared the place with Trouble and due to either full on starvation or malnutrition more of them had to have died. Second, while there would be fewer Seekers hocking gas canisters at my ass it meant that whatever was still kicking was hungry and probably even more feral than before. Joy. I made it to the Med Clinic without anything more happening that would be worth telling. It was dark, and it smelled like a stale motel Mattress that at one point was completely drenched in cat piss. But there was something banging around in the stretch of hallway with the broken Auto-Docs. I brought the rifle up and went into a crouch to peak around the corner. ''Christine?'' I called out, wondering if the ending cutscene wasn't lying and she really had stayed behind in this hellhole. No one answered and I wondered why exactly I thought it was a good idea to lower my weapon and get up to investigate closer.

We froze when our eyes met. I was peeking cautiously into room after room in that hall to see what the clattering was and for a split second my eyes passed right over the blue morphed by the green lenses of the goggles in the helmet. Then my eyes snapped back to it when my brain replayed that moment. I kept my rifle up and flicked the safety off, but I removed my helmet to get a better look and we were silent. The mans bare but muscled arms were bandaged and dark in places from what looked like old blood and maybe ash like he'd gotten cornered by a certain something with a crack rigged explosive. Gee, I wonder. His ice blue eyes were startlingly clear and bright in colour, probably popping out so obviously due to the muted palette of Fallout in general, but particularly Dead Money. Under those eyes were sallowed bags that looked to be caused by a combination of stress and lack of sleep. Vergil was a head taller than me and drew himself up to full height and puffed up like a frightened cat. I held a hand up in peace and blindly dug into my bag for what I already knew to be there. Gingerly, I held out two bottles of water held in the crook of my fingers and nodded to them. Still silent, I could only hear our breathing in the surprisingly tight space and felt my breath catch like I was trying to hold it. I zoned out for a split second and my eyes brought me back to reality when they picked up movement. A bruised and cut hand was reaching for the water and it halted once I was back in the land of the living. ''Go ahead. Take it.'' His eyes were distrusting but the two bottles were snatched from my hand and he retreated farther into the gloom. I sat beside the door when I saw him take a seat on the floor slightly behind the busted Auto-Doc and wondered if it was actually Vergil. It sure as hell looked like it. Sharp slicked-back hair? I craned my neck and saw that while it was on the rough side that it did seem to have that aristocratic flair the man emanated. Cold facial features and a haughtier-than-thou disposition? Cold, yes. Haughty? If this guy wasn't the elder son of Sparda then it was one hell of a coincidence that gave him stark white hair and eyes like knives made out of ice taken from the core of the 'berg that sank the unsinkable. But it was like every bit of resilience in him was concentrated in the too sharp movements he made in his little pocket beyond what I could see and the sharp hunch of his shoulders and upper back. We watched each other for what felt like several hours before anything more happened.

''Who are you and what is this damned place?'' He drawled from the dark. I looked up from playing Red Menace on the Pip-Boy and sat back up straight. ''My name is Jamie and you are currently in the Sierra Madre Casino. A sad tale lost in the atomic hellfire that consumed this world.'' I pulled the map up on the white and blue device and pointed the screen towards him. ''You are here. If you can see.'' 'Vergil' got up and edged closer, squinting. It crossed my mind that if it was Vergil, then he should have full on night vision or something. Then my mind switched back to the bandages covering his arms. I kept a more careful eye on him as he approached and he settled in about five feet away. ''What's yours?'' I prodded and his tired blue eyes stayed fixed on me. ''Vergil.'' I nodded, but in my mind I was scampering around and wondering what the flying fuck was going on. I pointed to his arms. ''Did one of the lovely residents catch you off guard? Those bombs hurt like a bitch.'' He nodded, silent. I felt uneasy, not because of him but the weight of what was going on had just begun to settle in. ''Why aren't you healing?'' I asked before I could stop myself. Vergil's pupils were instantly pin pricks of black in a sea of ice blue and I was on my feet with the Holorifle leveled at his head. One hand was halfway to a throwing spear and I let out a pressurized breath. ''I'm not here to hurt you, dumbass! I know my way around this entire clusterfuck and I have basic medical training. I can explain how I know who and what you are. Truth is, neither of us are meant to be here so we're in the same leaking canoe up shit creek. Now calm yourself the fuck down if you want an explanation.'' I growled low and he glared with whatever energy he seemed to have left. ''I'm listening.''

We went to the front area where the emergency lights provided just enough to see by and I managed to dick around and find the light on the Pip-Boy. We sat at the table with the radio that I kicked off the table top and stomped it. ''Damn that felt good. Damn radios. Damn Elijah. I should've cheated my chainsaw in and butchered him......'' I flopped into a chair I grabbed from the cubby next to the door and kicked his closer. ''If you're interested I'll give you an overview of what happened here. But if I had to guess then you don't give a flying fuck. Now give me your arm so I can see how bad they got you.'' He began to splutter something along the lines of 'hell no' but I held a finger up and shushed him. ''You've bothered to bandage yourself. That means you aren't healing. This entire area is cloaked in a literal fucking cloud of suspended poison particulate and I don't want to know what else. Those things outside do not go down without a fight and you have to dismember them to keep them down. This place _will_ kill you given the chance and you can bet your sweet ass that this resort can, will, and has killed things bigger and badder than us. You cannot afford to give it _any_ sort of advantage. Do you understand?'' I stressed as firmly as I possibly could with drifting into the territory of aggression. He was still almost twice my size.  
He sat in the chair to my left and sat his arm on the table. ''Thank you. Now, what do you want to know first?'' I asked in a slightly softer tone.  
''How do you know who I am?''  
I unwound the bandage with a grimace for two reasons. His arm was burned and clearly infected and from how difficult this would be to explain. ''Right for the throat. Well, keep an open mind. Do you know what a video game is?''   
His arm jerked when I brushed one of the gashes and he hissed at me. I apologized and he settled. ''Vaguely. Why?''  
''In my universe, a completely separate one from this one and yours, you're from a video game. It's called Devil May Cry. You were the main adversary in the third game and a playable one in a special edition of the fourth.''  
He listened intently but I could tell he thought I was full of shit. ''I don't have any concrete proof. But, I do know a lot about your family. You're the older twin. Dante is a twittering idiot. Your father formerly served under Mundus as his right hand and revolted to protect humanity. An island principality worships him and it's called Fortuna. You've been there before. Aside from having all of the current games, you're rather distinctive so I had a feeling that it was you when I almost didn't notice you.'' I chattered on meanderingly and pulled some medicine from the bag to hopefully burn out whatever was lurking in his cuts. I rinsed it and fell silent for a moment while digging for new bandages.  
''What is this place? The Sierra Madre.'' He asked next. ''Is this a video game as well?''  
''Mmhm.'' I hummed and pulled a set of pale blue gauze and tape from the med kit in my bag. I frowned but chocked it up to the snowballing strangeness of the entire situation itself. ''It's from a game called Fallout New Vegas. It's called Dead Money. A DLC. Basically a little bit more content for like five or six bucks extra. It's probably the most difficult one out of all four of them in my opinion. Mostly because of the bomb collars when the actual story was taking place.''  
Vergil's eyes went wide and I grinned. ''The whole bit was you can't get too close to radios or the collar will go off and,'' I gestured to my head and flashed my hand out sharply.  
He got it. ''It's blanketed by a poisonous cloud and I think I have a gas mask or two but I'll have to check. The Ghost people place traps everywhere. Trip wires, bear traps, and some steel beams attached to chains from the ceiling. If the glowing fuckers don't get you, those will.'' I snickered uneasily.  
I finished with one arm and then the other without any more talk and Vergil was silent. I suggested we stick together for safety's sake.  
He didn't argue.

Well, that covers how I found the grumpy fuck. I geared him up the best I could given what I had and discovered something disconcerting. The gates to the Sierra Madre weren't quite right. If you've ever played the game Corpse Party, you could guess where I'm going with this. It was like it was painted on thin air. But strangely solid. Which meant no escape. I was stuck in the city of the dead with a Vergil slowly returning to his normal behavior. Whom I still needed to take care of because he hadn't gotten it into his thick skull that something was wrong and he wasn't indestructible anymore. Fuck.

I guess that's how we ended up on a roof somewhere in Salida Del Sol with a little over fifty or so Ghost People making their way up to us. I was trying to unjam an automatic rifle with a bayonet and flashlight duct taped to it and Vergil was sulking on the floor somewhere to my right with a bear trap stuck to his foot. ''So, what have we learned today, Vergil dear?'' I taunted sharply and slammed my gun on the lip of the concrete roof. A shell popped out and I returned to raining bullets on the mutated creatures shambling up towards us. They sounded even more otherworldly and ominous in person with the bug like vibration when they lurched forward.  
Vergil growled at me like the big baby he is and I tossed a grenade down the ramp in the hopes that maybe it would take out the floor. I ducked down and heard it go off with a satisfying boom and a severed leg flew off into The Cloud. ''Don't start on me, woman.'' He snapped and I threw a glare of my own at his haughty pose of arms crossed and legs stretched out like metal jaws weren't digging into his ankle joint. He was facing away from me and I was preparing to go off on him when I heard a crash like a semi truck had plowed into a concrete wall coming from below. We shared a look of confusion and instant worry. I leaned over the side of the roof and he hobbled over with a grating noise of metal and roof tile. I couldn't see shit and he said he couldn't either. I grabbed my Desert Ranger helmet and pulled it on. I leaned farther over the side of the roof and in a shocking gesture, I felt Vergil's hands grip my duster tightly. ''Jamie, don't you dare fall and leave me with those damn things.'' He hissed in a strained way that betrayed he was worried about making it out of this one.  
''Wouldn't dream of it, Blue-'' I began.  
Instinct suddenly roared danger and I had a split second view of something emerging from the dust below to grab the both of us and throw us back. A fucking burned out van sailed past us into the sky and my stomach dropped out of my pelvis and onto the floor of the roof at the claw marks dug into the metal. Vergil cursed in Latin, I didn't know what it was but knew it was something you'd probably get escorted out of the Vatican by armed guards for saying in front of the Pope. It came back down to Earth and took out the scaffolding with it like paper plaster. I scrambled to my feet and shoved my things into the duffle sitting on a pile of rubble in a corner. Vergil asked what I was doing and I told him to sit down and I'd get the bear trap off his foot in a second. ''Woman, something just flung a vehicle higher than a four story building below us and you want me to sit and wait for you to rifle through your things?'' He snapped with a fully recognizable tremble of fear in his words.  
I pulled out a Stimpak and he paled. ''Verge, I know you hate these things but right now we don't really have the luxury to be picky about healing items. There are three things I can think of capable of chucking vehicles like letter blocks and I don't have near enough explosives for the weakest one. We have to _move_.'' My voice was wavering in pitch while my brain futilely tried to keep my mounting terror in check. I felt all the colour leave my face while I was looking him straight on as a guttural roar shook the floor under us and the building shuddered like a small quake was tearing through. It was scaling the brick side. My eye began to twitch and Vergil hastily helped me remove the trap and said nothing when I jabbed him with the syringe. He shot to his feet and obediently took my bag as I shoved a loose bit of platform that had landed on the roof over to the next and carefully darted across it. I waited until he was safely across before beginning a dead sprint across the roof tops. Vergil kept easy pace with me and eventually we were nearing the exit to the Villa. But even with the metric ton of ass we were hauling we weren't fast enough. We hit the road between the buildings and Vergil flashed a relieved smile that I'll admit I got distracted by like a rabid fangirl. Being truly blindsided is an odd thing, and my dumb ass was hit by a car some time between the ages of four and seven according to my medical records. I was limping towards the exit, limp because of the whole getting hit by a car thing combined with the zero to sixty running, and suddenly everything hurt and Vergil was shouting at something to fuck off. Not a variation of it, he was literally yelling at whatever bitch slapped me to fuck off to wherever it had come from. I was so proud I managed to affect his prim and proper language that I let out this choked laugh/gasp and nearly hacked up a lung in the process. There was blood. I'd punctured something.  
Something leaked into my eyes and the last thing I saw before blacking out was an iridescent flash of blue light and something dark the size of Metal Greymon charging down the narrow street towards us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, my sleep deprived ass fell asleep on my computer and after deleting seventeen pages of errant alphabet soup vomit, and drinking enough soda to kill some sort of small-ish mammal; I finished this shit. I'll probably go in and edit some things but my eye, my flesh and blood eye, is twitching like it licked an electrical outlet dusted with smack and Skyrim is calling to me. The next chapter will be up soon(ish) and will be from Vergie's POV while he does the tango with whatever the hell put our smartass out of commission for at least a chapter. If I go silent then I'm probably writing while I can force myself to. I don't own Digimon, Devil May Cry, Fallout, or anything remotely well written or thought out about this. I own Jamie and whatever osmodial beast I concoct for purposes of smack down-ery. You own yourself. And geese own our souls. There is no running. There is only acceptance of our waterfowl overlords. Night, duckies.


	2. I'M THE FUCKING MAILMAN! not another chapter but please read. Thank.

First chapter will be up later today. This decision was made in the span of an hour and I dunno how long it'll be. The length of each chapter will be irregular to some ironically constant degree so that will be a thing. Such a thing.  
Fuck I need sleep, things are moving in the corners of my vision again. May end up being some time tonight if I get side tracked or someone I'm reading updates. Really depends on if I decide to go through with this abomination or not. Reviews and likes are appreciated. Does anyone actually want this or am I screaming into the neverending and uncaring void about something that interests me? A cold vacuum which has swallowed many others who set out to do what I endevour to with more original wit and higher skill?  
............I'll try my damnedest not to write like this but occasionally I will slip. My appologies for my word vomit manner of speaking.

Edit: The formatting on this site is wild. First chap is up. Expect the next one by late Wednesday or three in the morning on Thursday. The reason being I want to give you a meaty chapter instead of the dinky first one I might add to later. Dunno. Comment what you think of the first one, and what you think of Vergil being Nero's father in the canon. Based on the feedback the much later bits of this story will change accordingly. How? I have no fucking idea. I don't know what I'm doing. Do any of us? Just the ones that have their lives together? Okay, so not me. Possibly starting a new job soon so if I disappear that's probably why. I can't stress this enough, but if you for any reason want to see this rolling dumpster fire keep chugging, tell me. I'll still work on it at my own leisure but it will probably go dead for months at a time and this fandom won't see anything until the last entry in the Sons of Sparda arc comes out next year. Yeah, last entry with our spiky haired handsome jackass. But whoever will take his place? (Door off to side opens and the cast of DmC is standing there sheepishly. Door is slammed and welded shut.) Ahem. We do not speak of the reboot in this house. It played well and possibly could've become its own title, but they made the mistake of branding it as Devil May Cry and mocking the main games. That is what caused them to tank so badly. Moving on. Suggestions are welcome and if there is any Capcom character you despise, leave them in the comment section and I'll make sure something is done to make them _comfortable_. Except Kyrie. I'm not going to shoehorn her in with time bullshit and I don't hate her as much as I used to. See you later, duckies. Stay fluffy.


	3. Empire of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil realizes he actually may be in over his head for the first time in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the one person out of the thirty-one who bothered to comment, you are literally the only reason this is getting updated because I felt bad about getting your hopes up. I am an unmotivated motherfucker and my brain will literally shut down when faced with something it doesn't want to do. Writing is hard and my brain is a flighty fuck.  
> Name of chapter is the title of a While She Sleeps song I was listening to that someone Nightcore'd. Thought it fit the motif.  
> So, I know I said I was going to have Vergil throw down with this creature, yeah? Well, I got an idea relating to the overall story line and what to do with this story when my punk ass doesn't want to add onto the existing story line. It'll give you guys some bones to chew on while my ADHD puts a chapter together at four am. So, yup. I'm trying, really. But dental assistant courses are kicking my everloving ass and other shite. So here's this shit and another chapter is one the way. Oh, one last thing.  
> Welcome to Silent Hill.

Vergil's Pov. (Kinda)

 

The sickening crack far off to the half breed's left was a grim reminder that he was not alone. Before the dust cleared Vergil was running towards the direction he'd heard it from. The splash of blood on the wall and lightly sprinkled on the vending device caused his cold heart to stutter for a moment and he knelt to search for the dark brown haired woman who he owed his life no less that seven times over. However his hands found nothing but dirt and broken glass. ''She's no longer here, Son of Sparda.'' A distorted, two toned voice called out.

Vergil turned on his heel and brought up the spear that Jamie had 'jury rigged' for his use and took a step back on reflex. The beast, a massive creature of inky black darkness and pure infernal rage was halted behind a 'man' in a suit and eyeing the swordsman the way a hungry hound would eye a stranger from behind a fence. The suited man approached while clapping with a sneering grin behind his masquerade mask and Vergil decided instantly that he didn't like who or whatever this was. ''Interestingly enough, the impact didn't kill her. Durable for a mortal, eh? Ah, but you don't really care about that. You want to know how to get back to where you're supposed to be and continue on your merry way to pseudo-godhood.'' He chirped jovially and passed a cane he hadn't noticed to his other hand.

' _You owe her your life. Both of your journeys are far from over and are intertwined beyond what I can see. You aren't to die here but I cannot intervene so you must tread lightly._ '

The soft and melodious voice of a woman spoke directly into his thoughts and Vergil felt himself calm without resistance. The suited being seemed to hear or sense it and began frowning with the same sneering undertone. He snapped his fingers and the demon dropped its giant jaw and roared with such ferocity that it rattled the windows to his left. The arm and a scrap of clothing from one of the Ghost People flew out and past him. ''Like clockwork Maalcye butts in to ruin my fun. No matter. No matter at all, really.'' He grinned, the action split his face in two and made him look decidedly less human than before. ''To remove the queen; start with the pawns.'' The cane was brought up and pointed square at the swordsman.

He had less than a second before the creature was upon him and took a step slightly to the side with a plan being put together in his mind. Blind it, cripple it, then go in for the kill. Vergil mused bitterly to himself that it was more or less the same procedure he'd used as a child when he was just learning how to wield Yamato. This however ended with far less success. The spear imbedded itself into the demon's skull, the width of a car hood and probably as thick, and jarred Vergil's arm badly enough for him to hiss and hold it on reflex. Though now he could more clearly see it. It resembled a lion, if a lion was larger than an elephant and made of mostly corporeal nightmares and suffering with just a _dash_ of high level corruption. It pawed at the sharp stick in its face and ripped it out with a howl of anger. Vergil glanced back and it crossed his mind that the man was gone but it didn't truly register. Like when you're busy and don't see the forest for the trees. Something else did, however. A swirling vortex of energy near the collapsed entrance called out to him. He looked at the creature now focused on him once more and said to hell with it.

Vergil abandoned the fight and fully extended his gangly legs in a mad sprint towards whatever safety or escape the portal might lead to. He heard the demon give chase behind him and ran faster. It was really the only thing he could do. When he passed through he was flung forward into nothingness with such force that he was half certain he'd gotten whiplash. In an instant he was spat out onto a dreary street and got to his feet as soon as he rolled out of the crouch he'd landed in. But something was different. Good different.

Like being hit by a bus his demonic energy returned to him in a rush and his legs faltered. His strength, his demonic half, he could even feel Beowulf at his call once more. Vergil turned on his heel just as the portal spat the demon out and cracked his knuckles. He was going to enjoy this. However, before he could he sensed something behind him. His eyes twitched at movement and time seemed to slow down as a Molotov cocktail sailed into view and exploded onto the wispy back of the demon. '' **GRRRAHHHH** **!** '' The unearthly demonic roar battered his freshly restored hearing and he bared his teeth back at it in response.

''Well,'' A taunting and catty, but familiar voice drawled behind him, ''looks like you two finally caught up. Only took you three and half months.''

Jamie strolled up to stand beside him, looking rough but better than the state Vergil had expected to find her in. The fire eating up the demon reflected off of a pair of thick plastic frame glasses and her hair was no longer shaved on one side, but now braided into a bun atop her head. A sword sat on one hip, a pistol on the other, and she hefted a shield around as he was handed a machete. ''We should take care of him before the noise it's making draws the big guy out. Trust me when I say we do not want that.''

Vergil nodded to her and with a sharp ring she pulled the sword from it's sheath and rolled her shoulders. ''I'll keep it occupied and you work on damage. Sound good?'' She offered.

''Try not to get yourself concussed again.'' He huffed, but was thankful for her being alive. He'd be able to repay his life debt and be on his way now.

Jamie nodded back with a co-conspiratorial smirk before darting off to wreck havoc near the demons haunches. Vergil dropped the machete and summoned Beowulf. He rolled his shoulders with a crack and stalked forward past a sign that read; Welcome to Silent Hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the read. Kudos and comment if you like. Suggestions are appreciated and I'm always looking for new writing music so any recommendations you have are welcome. Don't own Devil May Cry, Fallout, or the song that this chapter was named after. Stay fluffy, little ducklings.


	4. Muy Importante.

Alright, I'm not going to sugar coat this. I'm really not happy with how this story started and every time I look at the unfinished drafts in my word program I dig myself just a little bit deeper into my miasma of self hatred with how much I hate it. Add onto the fact that my grandmother died a few hours ago as of posting this I'm going to need a little break. Both to decide if I'm going to keep writing this at all and to help with funeral stuff. At this point I've been to more funerals than any other kind of 'event' and I'm just really tired. I switched my major over to psychology recently as well and I've got a garden and shit. Basically; life intervenes. Sorry. If anyone was actually interested in this then I apologize. I may start something else because I really didn't think this through before I started writing. I had just gotten some term papers finished and I was more or less high off caffeine and lack of sleep. Forty-eight hours lack of sleep. So, there it is. Out there in the open. I might start something Pokémon related once my life settles back down because Pokémon is the shit. Again, I'm sorry. There's more stuff going on than what I mentioned above but I'm not going to bore you with that. Peace, and good luck on your respective journeys through the divinely orchestrated clusterfuck that is life.


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